The Sky Was Not Yet Black
by Ash M. Knight
Summary: Set in Germany during WWII, this tells the story of young Emma Swan, who - up until recently - had few cares in the world.
1. Chapter 1: The Sky Was Not Yet Black

**Author's Note: This story will be very AU, very OOC, and _very_ depressing. Trigger warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter. SwanQueen will be implied.**

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On the day she was taken, the sky was not yet black.

But let us return to a happier moment, where no such blackened sky loomed overhead.

The girl was but eighteen and had long, flowing blonde hair that draped down past her shoulders. It was the envy of her female peers, and one of the many objects of the lust of young men. Among other attributes, her radiant smile illuminated what had become dark and dismal days, filled with much despair. Another such feature was her sparkling eyes, bright and vivacious - full of life.

Though many young women were filled with covetousness, she had many friends who both admired and despised her beauty. But to this, the girl was oblivious. Her smile was unending, and her worries were none, even in the blackest of times.

Families had been reduced to rubble by economic hardship, but though her own family struggled like many others, they managed to get by. Germany had suffered a great blow after World War I, and as such, ration cards were handed out to each household, limiting the food they could purchase. And the prices steeply increased with each passing day. When the second world war began, the people were hopeful, though the outcome looked bleak. When Adolf Hitler rose to power, it was a Godsend. Once again, the people believed that Germany could rise.

But the war did not concern the girl. Her life marched ever onward, even through the ashes.

Her mother ran a washing business out of their home, cleaning the clothes of the wealthier members of society for little but sufficient money. Emma Swan - for that was her name - was a good Catholic girl, and she was required to help her mother in her tasks. She collected the wash from her employers' houses and delivered it clean and without wrinkles. This meant that her shy mother was rarely required to leave the house. The girl even went out to gather what little groceries they could afford. Often, it was only the ingredients for a meager, watery soup. Even this did not bother her. She was grateful to be of assistance. Her father showed approval of her completed chores each night upon returning home from his job as a factory worker, which was mostly what she sought. He was - though he didn't say it - proud.

When she wasn't assisting with the laborious household tasks, she was socializing with friends. They would sit on the steps of one of their houses, giggling stories of encounters with boys, as though they were young girls in primary school again. But through these, Emma smiled and stayed silent. She had little to say, for her experiences with young men were few, if any. All advances were denied - to the dismay of her mother, who expected grandchildren quickly - and there certainly were plenty. She found herself empty, with a strange lack of attraction to the opposite sex, though she couldn't explain why. Perhaps, she reasoned, she wasn't meant to marry or bear children.

This thought was the only one that ached inside her. Her mother's expectations wore down on her like heavy steel, and she felt their burden each day she woke, and each night she went to sleep. Marriage was expected of her, as were children. And not just from her mother. From the Fürer - the charismatic leader of their country. Young German girls were meant to reproduce, to contribute strong men who would one day fulfill their patriotic duty by serving their great nation. _When I find the right boy, _Emma told herself. But something inside her warned her the day would never come. Perhaps she was simply pessimistic and self-doubting. But perhaps she was right.

When she wasn't spending time listening to her friends gossip about boys, she was joining them in doing her part to serve their country. The Fürer had made it explicitly clear that every able-bodied, aryan young person was to participate in the _Hitlerjugend_ (Hitler Youth), a small army of adolescents being trained to serve the German cause and promote the Master Race. This took place every day after school, where they learned to march, to hail the Fürer, and to excel at athletics, which Emma did easily. She was unparalleled in sports and nearly all other kinds of physical activities, far surpassing her peers - even some of the boys.

Having come of age, it was to be her last year in the group. Little did Emma know, she would never graduate from the program. Given that she was in the group of older girls, she was appointed leader of the others, and was trained to give strict, harsh commands. Though she didn't enjoy barking out severe, sometimes cruel and demeaning orders, she felt it her duty and completed each task to the best of her ability anyway. She had become a shining star in the program, and the commanding officers were greatly impressed by the promise she showed. Luckily for Emma and her social life, few of the girls resented her brutality, understanding all too well that it was expected of her. Thus, she kept her friends close and rarely spent moments alone.

Her afternoons ended with, "_Heil Hitler."_

Most days, it was a relatively large group of girls she passed the rest of the afternoon with, but sometimes, it was one girl in particular that she spent her time with, and she often welcomed the girl for dinner to share what little they had for a meal. As close as ion bonds, they rarely left each other's side. Given that the girl was more subdued and well-mannered than Emma, the girl's mother appreciated this and was more than thankful for the times when her friend was around.

"Eat, dear. Eat!" Emma's mother urged the girl, pushing her bowl of soup a little closer to the edge of the table where the girl was sitting.

"I'm full, ma'am," she said politely. "Really."

Emma laughed and rudely reached beside her, grabbing the bowl away.

"That's fine. I'll have seconds!"

"Emma!" her mother scolded her, reaching across to snatch the bowl away. "Let the girl eat! She's practically wasting away, _Schatzi_! Share!"

"_Nein. Ich hab keine Lust_," Emma teased. "I don't feel like it."

It was true, though. The girl was practically wasting away. She was thin and malnourished, given that her family was relatively poor, and there was little food to go around. This was partly why Emma enjoyed having her for dinner. Seeing her eating made the guilt subside, at least for a little while. That being the case, it happened often. Also, Emma treasured the girl's company, knowing all too well that a _true _friend was hard to come by.


	2. Chapter 2: More Happy Times

**Trigger warnings: Extreme violence.**

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Now for more happy times.

On occasion, when the girls stayed up late into the night finishing homework they'd not been able to complete during the day or after school, due to their obligations to the Hitler Youth meetings, the brunette spent the night at Emma's house. In the beginning, thinking nothing of it, Emma would invite her under the warm covers, but the girl always declined, opting instead to make a thin pallet of sheets on the floor. But soon, things changed with the seasons, and one night, the invitation was accepted.

They scooted to opposite sides of the twin bed, with Emma on the inside, facing the wall, and stayed silent as they fell asleep. In the middle of the night, though, Emma woke to a great thud and was jarred awake by the sound. In a moment, she was reaching over the side of the bed, pulling her friend back up onto the mattress.

Slightly delirious from sleep, the girl startled and stared at Emma in the darkness. Emma lit a candle, illuminated the girl's face. As she watched the panic wash over it, Emma noted just how beautiful the girl truly was, and the softness of her features.

"You fell off the bed," Emma pointed out, stating the obvious.

"I'm sorry," the girl said quickly, blushing with shame. "I don't know what happened. I was having a terrible dream. I was dreaming about the air raids, and my mother... She..."

Emma understood. She, too, had had dreams about the continuous air raids by the British that bombed nearby cities and towns. Though there had been threats and close calls, their town was so far left untouched. Still, the fear was there, and though Emma thought nothing of the war during the day - even though it was shouted about constantly - she could not push the thoughts away at night. In her sleep, she had also once seen her parents die, barely surviving herself.

"I know," Emma whispered, stroking the girl's hair, which was matted to her forehead with sweat. "It's okay. It wasn't real."

"I know. I just..."

"Belle," the blonde started, this time touching the girl's cheek. "It's okay."

"Emma," the girl whispered back.

To the blonde's surprise, the girl leaned in, and soon, their lips were touching. Emma didn't pull away.

From then on, the girl stayed the night frequently. Each night began and ended with kisses.

But, like all things, the happy times had to end. Soon, they were found out, and it was then that it all ended.

The kiss that ended it all was stolen in the hallway at their school. Daring though it was, Emma had boldly taken the risk and pressed her lips against her lover's, praying that the hallway was as empty as it appeared. But, alas, that was not the case, and though, in her head, she knew it to be true, Emma didn't fully grasp just how finished her life really was. She wasn't dead. She was breathing. Wasn't she?

It was a close friend who reported them, and it happened immediately. Not knowing what would happen, the girls discussed a plan to run away.

"We can't go, Belle. They'll find us. Besides, we're in _Hitlerjugend_. Nothing's going to happen. We'll be scolded and they'll threaten to kill us. We'll be fine."

"Emma," Belle breathed quietly. "They've taken the Jews. They've taken the homosexuals. Being in _Hitlerjugend_ won't save us now. They know."

In Hitler's country, there would be no homosexuals.

Their conversation ended abruptly with a knock on the door. Before Emma could reach it, her mother had already pulled the door open. In stormed two Nazi soldiers, gripping their rifles tightly, shoving the woman aside.

Startled, the woman cried, "What is this about?"

One simply pointed at the girls and advanced on them. The first one to reach them grabbed Emma's arm and began to drag her away, trapping her in an unbreakable vice.

In a sudden outburst, the quiet girl screamed, "Let her go, you filthy swine!"

The words, like the kiss, brought Emma's world to an end.

Gripping her hair tightly, the first solider shoved Belle down and smashed her face into the floor. In a moment that fluttered by before Emma could catch it, the gun went off, and the girl's life spilled onto the dirty wood beneath her.

Emma screamed.

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**Author's Note: Nobody panic. Regina comes in soon.**


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

It was then that her sky turned black, fading into a deep shade of nothingness.

The death camp was not what she expected. It was colorless and smelled of burning flesh. Of course, that was what it was. (This, she did not know.) She was put through the dehumanizing process of intake and was stripped of her clothes, made to stand naked in front of the guards and mocked for her beauty. It was three days before she was fed, and by the end of the seventh day of eating nearly nothing, she'd already lost weight. The continuous labor kept her focused and strong for a while, but at night, dreams of Belle and her parents filled her broken mind.

Day after day progressed with few eventful things to mention, until one morning at roll call, Emma did something forbidden. She tripped.

"Stand up, swine!" a female officer screamed, stomping over to her and grabbing her by the back of her torn and dirty shirt. "Get the fuck up. Do you hear me, Jew?"

"I'm not a Jew," Emma retorted boldly, earning a backhanded slap across the face.

This rendered her speechless. Suddenly, she realized that perhaps being a Jew was better than being a homosexual former Hitler Youth leader. She said nothing.

This did not help. In fact, it infuriated the woman to the point of explosion, and the blows rained down on Emma from above until she was crouched and bent over. She could feel the blood throbbing and rushing to the site of each impact, and she could hear the ringing in her ears.

"Did you hear me, Jew?"

Emma kept her eyes on the ground. It seemed the safest place. At least, that was what she'd thought.

"Look at me, you horrid piece of Jewish filth!"

It was only when Emma lifted her eyes that time that she noted just how beautiful the officer was. Her hair was soft and brown, and it danced to the side of her face as though a soft breeze had blown it there. It was darker than Belle's. Her eyes were dark, like deep water, and alluring. Her features, though her expression was contorted into fury, were soft and elegant. The woman was lean and fit nicely into the uniform that hugged her shape like a diamond buried comfortably in a mine. Emma swallowed air, and her thoughts, but they pushed their way back up, like vomit.

_Belle._

Emma's eyes welled with tears, and given that the officer assumed they were tears of pain, she scoffed and laughed out loud, stepping closer again, with cruelty flashing in her midnight eyes.

"I expect you to stay on your feet," the woman said, "from now on. If not, I will snap your legs at the knees, make you kneel in front of your fellow Jews, and shoot you."

Again, Emma swallowed.

That night, Emma didn't dream of Belle, or her parents. She dreamed of the officer's cruel eyes.

She saw the officer every day at role call, but never again fell out of line or drew attention to herself. She faded into the crowd of Jews, Gypsies, and other homosexuals. Even among them, she was alone.

It was not until one month later that she endured another painful confrontation.

This time, when she stumbled, she was delirious with hunger and a fever, hobbling back to the wreckage the prisoners called shelter. Unforgiving rained poured down, soaking her clothes, which weighed her down. She was no longer strong.

When the officer saw her, she drew her gun and approached, but stopped just before she reached Emma, who was on her hands and knees, coughing.

"You're sick," the officer managed slowly, finally stepping forward as she holstered her gun.

Emma knew what that meant. She would disappear like smoke, her life snuffed out like the candle it streamed from.

"No, ma'am."

"Yes, you are. You're coughing."

"It... I... Something in my throat," was all Emma could manage before breaking out into another fit of coughing. When the officer opened her mouth to speak, Emma cried, "Please. I don't want to die."

"You won't-" the officer started, but quickly dropped the sentence.

She knew. If she could no longer work, the girl would be shot.

"Please," Emma begged.

"You'll go to the infirmary."

"Please," she sobbed, her tears mixing with the pouring rain.

Suddenly irritated, the officer roughly grabbed Emma's arm and dragged her to a broken-down infirmary building at the back of the camp.


	4. Chapter 4: The Infirmary

But Emma became too sick to walk, collapsing under her own weight and hurling the contents of her stomach onto the ground, barely missing the officer's shoes.

"Get _up!" _the officer hissed, grabbing the girl by the back of her shirt and dragging her to her feet.

When she realized that Emma had become too weak to stand, she looked to her left, her right, and then behind herself, then turned back to Emma. She lifted the girl into her strong arms and carried her the few meters to the doorway of the infirmary. The doctor on duty - a Jew - surprised to see the officer to tenderly holding the girl to her chest, rushed over and took Emma from her arms, then hurried her over to the last open bed, in the back of the room. The small, pathetic excuse for a building was filled with coughing, wheezing, and the sound of vomit, and it made the officer cringe.

"Please," Emma sobbed, climbing out of the bed and crawling towards the officer.

The woman stepped back and turned to leave as the doctor helped the girl back onto the cot.

She fell into a deep but fitful sleep - the kind you get when you're deathly ill - and again dreamed of the officer's cruel eyes. She woke in the morning to the doctor dabbing her forehead with a cold tattered cloth as he wiped the stream of sweat from her brow.

"You're very ill, Miss."

"No, I'm not," she choked. "I'm fine. Please. Let me go back. I can work!"

"Miss, I'm afraid this illness is a grave one. If you overexert yourself, you _will _die."

Emma went silent. _Die? _Her mind flooded. _Belle. _She flinched.

"Will I get better, if I stay?" she finally asked weakly.

"I think so. But you _must _rest. It's imperative that you rest."

With that, Emma fell back on the cot and shut her eyes, until she heard the sound of boots approaching. Her eyes went wide, anticipating an officer who would send her to her death, claiming her uselessness. Not looking down or noticing that she was awake, the officer that did approach spoke to the doctor only.

"How is she?"

"She's... She will be better soon, with some rest," he lied. "She will be ready to work soon."

He knew it would not be soon.

The officer finally looked down at the girl on the cot, whose eyes had closed again.

"Good," she said. "Good."

When she heard her voice, Emma knew it was the officer from the night before. The officer who had beaten her. The officer who had lifted her into her arms and carried her into the infirmary.

"Thank you, ma'am," Emma managed, opening her eyes. "For carrying me."

The woman looked almost regal in her uniform, but the swastika on her arm glared at Emma, threatening her with another fit of fury. But, to Emma's surprise, the fury didn't come.

"You're welcome," was all the woman said as she turned and left Emma alone with the doctor, and the rest of the prisoners who probably wouldn't draw breath for much longer.

She did not rise, except to eat meager meals of scraps of bread and water, which certainly didn't further along the healing process. She slept the hours away, her fatigued body - though certainly ill - grateful for the rest.

Each day, the officer reappeared at the foot of her bed, asking the same question.

"How is she?"

Each day, the doctor lied.

Until finally, Emma woke early one morning and found herself able to sit up in bed, completely on her own. This was an accomplishment, for her body was fighting furiously to ward off the illness and was exhausted from doing so. But the girl was strong-willed, and was desperate to get better. And so, that morning, when the officer appeared, the doctor didn't have to lie.

"She's awake," the woman pointed out, as if the doctor didn't know.

He nodded.

"She's strong. She'll only need a few more days, and she'll be ready to work again."

"Good," she said. "Good."

As she turned and walked away, Emma could have sworn she saw a smile.

A few days later, when the officer appeared, the doctor was nowhere to be seen - most likely attending to another prisoner who had been gravely injured, which was a common occurrence in the camp. The woman stood beside the bed, watching Emma as she sat up.

"How are you?" the officer asked, this time directly to Emma.

"I feel much better, ma'am," Emma replied, as respectfully as possible. "The doctor said I could go back to work today, with your approval."

Without catching her words, the woman asked, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I... I feel strong again."

After some hesitation, the officer straightened up and looked down at her sternly.

"Stand up."

This, of course, was a superbly challenging endeavor, but thank heavens, Emma managed, possibly saving her own life.

"Tomorrow," the officer said, pushing down on Emma's shoulder until she was sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the bed.

"But, I..."

The officer raised her hand as though she was about to hit the blonde, but refrained, quickly dropping her arm to her side.

"I said _tomorrow._"

It wasn't until later that Emma realized that this was an act of great kindness.


	5. Chapter 5: They'll Make Me Shoot You

**Trigger warning: sexual assault.**

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When the officer came to retrieve her the next morning, Emma was ready. Her tattered, oversized shoes were on her feet, which were anxiously planted on the floor as she sat on the bed.

"How are you?" the woman asked.

"Fine, ma'am," Emma answered, lowering her head.

"Stand up."

Emma did as she was told, this time without wobbling or faltering at all. From a safe distance, the doctor smiled sympathetically at her. On the one hand, being put back to work would be returning her to hell, but on the other, if she'd been in the infirmary much longer, they would have simply put her out of her misery, like a race horse being put down for a broken ankle. The sky was white as Emma followed the woman outside and was put back into the ranks of the other prisoners. She worked the rest of the day, faltering only once. Thankfully, she caught herself before any onlooking officer could see.

At the end of the day, she was grateful to return to the uncomfortable cot among the others, even with an empty stomach.

The next day at roll call, the officer seemed to look at her longer than usual, as if waiting for her to collapse. But Emma didn't. She stood strong and tall, holding her shoulders back, despite the slight aching in her head that still lingered from her illness. The days went on like that, with the officer's eyes lingering on her each morning. Roll call was the only time she saw the woman, at least until a few weeks later, when she found herself working under the command of the beautiful officer, and one other.

"Move it, filth!" she hollered, shoving one of the other prisoners forward.

Emma flinched, praying she wouldn't be next. But how could someone who had shown such kindness treat people like swine?

"Regina," the other officer addressed her, laughing. "Do you ever just want to shoot these foul vermin all at once and get it over with?"

Hesitating - Emma thought she saw her flinch, but couldn't be sure - the woman, whose name was apparently Regina, replied, "Sure."

Emma's eyes dropped, but not before she stumbled forward and fell to her knees, having been distracted by the officers' interaction.

"Jew!" Regina yelled, stomping over and grabbing her arm. She turned her head, seeing that the other officer wasn't looking, and leaned in until her lips were nearly on Emma's ear, hissing, "Get up. Don't you know they'll make me shoot you?"

Mouth agape, Emma did as she was told, immediately resuming her work, stunned by the interaction. _Regina. _Emma blinked. _Belle. _She shook her head and held her breath, refusing to look back at the officer that had shown her a small splash of sympathy.

A few nights later, Emma made her next deadly mistake.

The officers' building was a ways away from the wreckage the prisoners called home. Sneaking from there to the barracks, even in the middle of the night, was a fool's errand. But anyone starving quickly becomes a fool in his own right.

As Emma fumbled across the dirt pathway back to the barracks, she clutched the bag of potatoes to her chest and panted. When she heard a noise, she covered her mouth with one hand, still clutching the bag in the other. When she saw the light, though, she completely froze, and as the officer approach her, she dropped to the ground and covered her head.

_Gott im Himmel. God in Heaven._

The Catholic girl inside her prayed, but the prayers fell on deaf ears. God had looked away, leaving her alone with the Nazi officer who dragged her up and slapped her across the face.

"Well, well, well. What have we here! An audacious piece of Jewish filth!"

_I'm not a Jew, _she wanted to scream, but fear silenced her.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson," he said, advancing on her and tearing her shirt open, groping her roughly.

"Please," she sobbed, trying to scramble away. "I'm sorry."

But of course, again, her pleas fell on deaf ears, and as he held her to the ground with his hand around her neck, he began to violate her.

She couldn't hear the footsteps over the sound of his grunts and her own cries, but she opened her tear-filled eyes as she saw the light that splashed over them.

"What the fuck are you doing, scum?!" the woman screamed, not waiting for his answer and instantly jumping on him, dragging him away.

Emma scrambled to pull her filthy clothes back on.

"Get out of here!" the woman continued to scream, drawing her gun from her belt and pointing it at him.

"You'll pay for this, Regina," he swore as he turned to leave. "I promise you that."

But she wasn't listening. She was crouched at Emma's side, lifting the sobbing girl off the ground and looking into her watery eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked stupidly, looking Emma over in the dark.

Emma shook her head and continued to sob, until Regina pulled her close and wrapped her arms around the girl.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's going to be okay. I won't let him hurt you again."

At first, Emma tried to pull away, but the sobs that shook her body pressed her closer.


	6. Chapter 6: Consequences

By the time Emma stopped crying, her eyes and face were red, but in the dim light of the lamp beside them, the color was hidden. The officer could only see the outline of the girl's features, contorted in agony. Repulsed by her own actions but unable to move, Emma rested her head on the woman's shoulder. In the absence of thought, the officer leaned down and pressed her lips to the top of Emma's head.

In an unfeeling time, a rare act of kindness can either build or break a person with its weight. This act, like none other Emma had experienced in this world of black skies, broke her.

She began to scream and continued to sob uncontrollably. There was no consoling her. The woman tried to quiet her, but when Emma paid her no mind, she had no choice but to cover the girl's mouth firmly with her hand.

"Shh," the officer begged. "They're going to hear you."

This finally quieted Emma, and her screams fell back into lonely, heaving sobs that were silenced as they forced their way up her throat.

After a while, Regina finally said, "Come on. We have to get you back to the barracks before they see you."

Emma, who had not stopped crying, nodded her head obediently, not daring to challenge the kind officer - if she could be called 'kind' at all - and rose to her feet, her legs wobbling as she stood.

Regina supported her with her arm, walking her slowly back to where the empty cot was waiting.

"I'll check on you in the morning," the officer promised, loudly enough for only Emma to hear.

None of the other prisoners woke up as the woman gripped Emma's hand and squeezed it. In that moment, Regina felt the sudden urge to kiss the girl's soft, pale lips goodnight. Like the rest of her emotions, she swallowed this one, and it went back down into her stomach like shards of broken glass. Giving Emma a sad, helpless look of sympathy, she turned and walked away.

That night, the officer slept fitfully, but dreamed nonetheless. In her vision, the young blonde's hair had grown out and bounced over her shoulders. Her eyes lit up. Her body was strong again. Her cheeks were full of color. In her dream, the officer sat in a chair as the girl approached, and when she was close enough, she pulled Emma into her arms. In through the window, light from the white sky poured in and covered them with warmth. When their lips touched, Regina woke up.

Regina had not anticipated the consequences of her actions. Instincts had kicked in before she could stop herself. As such, by the early hours of the morning, before she had to rise, her heart was already throbbing, just waiting for the blow she would be would no doubt be dealt for her interference in the events that took place the night before. As promised, though, the officer returned to the barracks that morning, waking Emma with a hand on her shoulder. _Are you alright? _was what she wanted to ask, but the rest of the prisoners were awake and watching.

What she said instead was, "Can you work?"

But Emma, though caught off guard by the question, understood her meaning and weakly nodded her head as she tried not to begin crying again.

"Yes, ma'am."

Regina began to extend her hand to help the girl out of bed, but refrained, dropping it back to her side as she watched Emma struggle to her feet.

Once the girl was standing, the officer leaned in and whispered, "I'm so sorry," then turned and left again.

At roll call, when Regina spoke her prisoner number, the girl stepped forward, staring at her savior.

"You!" another officer bellowed. "_Schlampe! _Slut!"

Emma froze, as did Regina. The man who spoke stepped out of the line of other other Nazi soldiers. It was the officer from the previous night. Regina did not turn to look at him, and Emma said nothing, her insides melting into warm, wet slush inside her.

Then, the officer turned to the rest of the soldiers and said, "This is the _Schlampe_ who stole from us and assaulted me last night!"

Then, he turned on Regina and pointed directly at her.

"She saw it!" he announced. "Tell them!"

Regina wanted to defend the girl, but she doubted that a lie would save her life. She tried anyway.

"It was dark," the female officer replied. "I do not know if this was her."

"Liar!" the man screamed. "You would defend this Jew?"

Inside, Emma was screaming.

"I am not defending her. I do not know if this is the girl."

"Well, I do," he said cooly. "This is her alright."

The officers exchanged glances, and one of them stepped forward. Their superior.

"Well?" the higher-ranking officer challenged. "Do something about it, you _Scheisse!_"

The man's mouth hung open, but he advanced on the girl quickly and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her down to her knees. As he began to beat the girl, the superior officer laughed.

"No, no, boy! You hit like a girl. I want her _dead, _not tenderized like a piece of meat!"

The gasp that slipped from between Regina's lips was quiet enough so as not to be noticed.

"Wait," she croaked, stepping forward towards the girl. "Let me... Let _me_ be the one to take her life."

"Ah," the superior officer said with a smile. "So the lady would like a share in the bloodshed. Alright, then. She's yours." When the man looked dumbfounded and didn't release the girl, the officer barked, "Let her go, you little _Scheisse! _Let the lady have a turn!"

Regina wanted to beat both of the men, to pulverize them until they _wished t_hey were dead, but she had to focus on what was at hand. Emma's life. Though it could not be saved - Regina knew this all too well - she had to spare the girl the suffering. And had she not, the suffering would have been great, and her death would not have come swiftly. Swallowing audibly, she removed her gun from its holster on her hip and held it against the back of Emma's head. The girl was sobbing again, but this time, under the gaze of every Nazi in the camp, Regina had no chance to comfort her.

Whispering only, "I'm so sorry," Regina pulled the trigger.

The body collapsed in a heap at her feet, the girl's pale cheek resting on Regina's polished boot. When Regina looked up, there were undoubtedly tears in her eyes. As she holstered the gun, she looked up at the mob of gaping prisoners, who feared their own lives would be taken next. But it was not a prisoner who would be the next to die.

When her eyes moved slowly from the prisoners to the smiling pack of officers, she drew the gun again, this time with her left hand. She pointed it at the two officers, then bent her elbow and positioned it against her own temple. Giving the straight-armed "_Heil Hitler!_" salute with her right arm, she pulled the trigger again and dropped to the ground, her body crumpling beside Emma's.


End file.
